The Unraveling Read Online Vi Keeland

Categories Genre: Alpha Male, Suspense, Thriller Tags Authors:
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Total pages in book: 95
Estimated words: 91504 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 458(@200wpm)___ 366(@250wpm)___ 305(@300wpm)
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Rebecca is quiet again, but she’s right on the other side of the door now, so I can hear her breathing. Her voice is lower when she finally speaks again. “Gabriel needed to be free. Ellen was weak and would’ve gone back to him. So when she stopped at the light, and I saw a car swerving all over the road… I pushed her. I didn’t mean to hurt her daughter. I didn’t see that she was holding her hand and would drag her in front of the car, too.”

My throat tightens, and my eyes bulge from my head.

I should finish calling 911, barricade my desk in front of the door until they arrive to save me. But instead, I find myself doing the exact opposite. I reach for the doorknob and pull open the door. I need to see this woman’s face. I’m too shocked to speak. Rebecca is looking down at the floor, so I just wait. For what, I have no idea.

When she eventually raises her head, the corners of her mouth curl up and her eyes light with mirth. A chill races through my body. This woman has just admitted to murdering a woman and a small child and she’s smiling. I’ve underestimated how deranged she is. She raises her index finger to her lips in the universal quiet sign.

“Remember, we have doctor-patient confidentiality, Dr. McCall.”

She turns and walks out of my office.

CHAPTER 41 Now

Three more days pass, and I’ve still heard nothing from Detective Green. He won’t answer my calls, won’t return my messages. So I’m going to see him, and nothing’s going to stop me, not even the damn rain.

I hug my rain jacket tighter, pull the hood down to cover my face, but fat drops collect and drip to my nose, my cheeks. I wrestle with my umbrella, but for the third time it ends up inverted, utterly useless.

“Goddamn it.” The words escape before I can stifle them, and I smack the umbrella against a building in frustration. A man in a business suit stops, peers at me briefly, and hurries away like I’m one of my own patients, on the verge of losing it.

But I’m way past losing it. My sanity is long gone. I look over my shoulder when I’m locked inside my own apartment, and I stare out at the street while hiding behind my living room curtains. I check the peephole four times before I open the door, carry a kitchen knife in my pocket, and never take the same route more than once.

I can feel eyes on me. Their heavy presence makes every breath a little harder to take. Every step is like I’m carrying a backpack full of bricks.

I haven’t caught sight of either of them, but knowing—just knowing Rebecca is a murderer—rocks me to my core. That little grin after she’d admitted it, that reminder about patient confidentiality, it sends a fresh chill down my spine every time I think about it. Not only am I sure they’re following me, but the knowledge of what Rebecca’s done is too much. No person should have to bear a secret like this.

Finally, I reach the police department. I stumble in, yanking off my soaked jacket and realizing it must need to be replaced, because it kept me anything but dry. I catch my reflection in a pane of glass separating the front area from the back, and I look like I’ve just walked out of an institution. A patient who escaped, rather than their doctor.

“Detective Green, please,” I say to the man at the desk. He looks familiar, and from the way he looks at me, he clearly knows who I am. I’m pretty sure that’s not a good thing.

“Have a seat. I’ll see if he’s available.”

I hesitate. “I’m not leaving until I see him. I’m in danger.”

The man nods, a faint smile on his lips. “I understand, ma’am.”

I hold back a sigh. I don’t just look like someone who’s institutionalized, I’m being treated like that, too. Fake smiles, neutral responses. It’s textbook—don’t upset the patients.

Shockingly, Detective Green takes only two minutes to come out from the back—I know, because I’m watching the clock as it tick-tick-ticks.

“Dr. McCall? Right this way.” He holds the door open, beckoning for me to go ahead of him. I already know where his cubicle is, so I head straight there. And for a moment, I’m relieved. It’s safe here, within these walls. Even if it’s just a few minutes of respite, that’s more than I’ve had in days.

“How can I help you?” He takes his seat and swivels it to face me. “I actually planned on calling you later today.”

Hope blooms in my chest, and for a moment, I forget I look like a drowned rat. Like a desperate mental patient.

“About the restraining order?” I prompt.


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